


Easy, Sweetheart

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Daddy Kink, F/M, Kink Meme, Minor Clarke Griffin/Niylah, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Spanking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For the prompt: "Clarke has a night with Niylah and when she comes home her daddy Bellamy teaches her a lesson," from the 2017 T100 Kink Meme on livejournal.





	Easy, Sweetheart

Clarke is immensely pleased with herself, as she has every reason to be. She has been, after all, very naughty, but she’s going to get away with it.  
  
She’s just spent a wonderful long lazy afternoon at Niylah’s, an afternoon so magical it was like being in paradise itself. She remembers it now in hazy pleasure-muted scraps, remembers little more than the sensation of pleasure building and crashing and then building again, over and over in the most beautiful loop. She must have come at least a half dozen times.  
  
And now she’s home again—home with Bellamy, which is still her favorite place to be. He’s settled down in his big armchair, and she’s gotten comfortable on his lap, and they’re kissing lazily, like they have all night, because they do. He has one strong arm wrapped around her waist and his other hand all the way up her skirt. His fingers play along her pussy, feeling along her entrance, getting slippery with her slick, sliding up every now and then to circle teasingly around her clit. It’s not enough to make her come, but she doesn’t want that quite yet. She likes these moments for exactly what they are.  
  
Bellamy seems just as pleased with her as she is with him. He hasn’t said a thing about where she’s been all day. He hasn’t even seemed to notice how wet she is, or that she isn’t wearing any panties or a bra.  
  
Perhaps he just likes her this way and has decided not to question it.  
  
“You’re very wet tonight, aren’t you princess?” he murmurs against her lips, words almost lost between one kiss and the next.  
  
She nods, smiling like the good girl he believes she is. “Yes, Daddy.”  
  
“And why is that?”  
  
“Because your fingers feel so good.” She grinds down on his hand a little, just for emphasis. But he doesn’t respond by bringing his fingers back to her clit, or kissing her again, but by pulling back just the slightest bit and staring at her with his serious-Daddy face.  
  
That is not a good face.  
  
“Because my fingers feel good…or because someone else has been playing with this pretty pussy today?”  
  
Oh no. Clarke stiffens a little, but she keeps her most innocent face on. “No, Daddy. Only you.”  
  
“Tell the truth, sweetheart. Has someone else been touching you here?” As he speaks, he slides two thick fingers all the way inside her. It’s not the fullest she’s ever been by far, but she wasn’t expecting the gesture, and she takes in a deep breath as she feels him sink inside of her.  
  
She doesn’t answer, only stares at him.  
  
“Unbutton your shirt, baby,” he orders.  
  
Clarke obeys, but slowly—Bellamy doesn’t seem to mind her hesitance, only staring brazenly as she slowly reveals her bare breasts. He still has his other arm around her, holding her in place on his lap, and now he reaches out with one hand and squeezes her breast roughly.  
  
“Has someone else been playing with your tits?”  
  
She shakes her head, but she knows he isn’t buying her obvious lie. His thumb is grazing back and forth over her nipple, and as it hardens under his touch he starts to move his fingers inside her, fucking her roughly while she squirms on his lap.  
  
“You’re lying to me, sweetheart.” He leans in closer, lips against the shell of her ear, and murmurs to her, “You know you’re only making your punishment worse.”  
  
“Punishment? Daddy—you don’t have to do that.”  
  
“I think that I do,” he counters, and slowly takes his fingers from her, and helps her up to her feet. Clarke is reluctant and makes her body as limp and uncooperative as possible, but still before she knows it, she’s off of Bellamy’s lap and being led, with one strong, firm hand on her arm, to the side of the armchair and positioned over the edge with her face in the cushions, her ass in the air. “I think you know you need this, princess,” he continues, as he flips up her skirt. “You’ve forgotten our rules and you need to learn a lesson.”  
  
Clarke shivers, and mumbles a very quiet, “Yes, Sir” that she’s not even sure he can hear. Daddy’s lessons are no joke and her stomach is twisting over itself, flipping with nerves as she hears the quiet _thwick_ of his belt being pulled free of its loops.

He doesn’t give her any warning before the first hit, but when she jumps and tries to stand, he puts his hand firmly on the small of her back and keeps it there until she’s still again. “Keep still. There’s a good girl. Stay as still as you can for me.”

“I—yes, Daddy. Yes, Sir.”

She shuts her eyes tight and braces herself for the next, and the next. Each time the belt lands across her upturned ass she feels a streak of fire blaze across her skin, and she has to bite her lip or grab at the chair cushions to keep herself from jumping up again. If she moves too much, Daddy will make _sure_ she stays still, and she doesn’t want that at all. Her toes scramble to keep her body in position and sometimes her back arches up on its own, she just can’t help it—but Daddy is patient with her, even when she’s being punished. He soothes her with a quiet, “Shhh, be good for me, sweetheart,” his hand on her back again, under her shirt and against her bare skin. She does not last long before she starts to cry. It’s not just that the belt hurts, although it does, and she’s sure she’s taken the last one she can stand long before it’s done. It’s that she hates that he’s disappointed in her. She hates that she ever thought getting away with anything was a good idea.

She knows it’s over when she hears him throw the belt down on the floor, but she doesn’t really believe it. The sharp cries she’d screamed out with each new stripe against her skin have collapsed into a messy, jagged crying, and even if she were allowed to move (she isn’t, he hasn’t said she’s allowed yet), she wouldn’t want to. She wouldn’t be able to. Her Daddy kneels down next to her and wipes her tears away. He pets her hair and tells her, “You did really well, princess.” He even kisses her cheek. But she still needs time to catch her breath. She still needs time for his words and soft touch to sink in.

And he knows it. “You take a few moments to collect yourself, all right? Stay right there and in position. I’m going to be right back.”

She nods, and swallows hard again, sniffling back the last of her tears.

The sound of his slow, measured steps when he walks back into the room is enough to send another prickle of nervousness up her spine. These are not the footsteps of a gentle Daddy ready to pull his princess into a great big hug. She hears him drop something onto the table next to the chair, then feels his hand passing over the hot, burning skin of her ass—not exactly gently. Rather—possessively, with a hard little squeeze just before he speaks.

“Princess? You know it’s very, very bad to lie to your Daddy, don’t you?”

Oh no oh no oh no. She understands now and a bolt of panic almost brings her to feet. But he’s right behind her, so close she can feel the fabric of his pants against the back of her legs. She understands no that the belting was just her punishment for _lying_.

“Y-yes, Daddy. I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

“So now you’ll tell me the truth. Has someone else been playing with this pretty pussy?” As he speaks, his fingers dip down between her legs again, and she blushes furiously because now he knows that she’s still soaking wet. Even _more_ aroused, even, than before.

She takes a deep breath, then answers quietly, “Yes, Daddy.”

He hums thoughtfully, fucks his fingers into her a few times, then steps back and pulls her pussy lips apart, like he’s leaning back to examine her. “And playing quite a bit, I see. You’re practically dripping down your leg.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

All he does is pull his hands away, and then she hears him pick something up, and the familiar snap of their container of lube being opened. Despite herself, a pleasant little thrill lights within her, and she spreads her legs wider just thinking, just daring to hope for a moment, that he might be getting ready to fuck her. Still, it’s strange—

“Daddy, you—you know how wet I am,” she says slowly, in her best good-little-girl voice. “You don’t need to use lube.”

He chuckles quietly and steps closer to her again. “You’ll want me to use lube, baby girl.”

Then she feels his fingers, not at the entrance to her pussy, but circling, pressing gently at, her asshole, and she immediately tenses up.

“Shhhh, easy sweetheart,” he murmurs, rubbing her back with his free hand as his fingertip slips gently inside her. “The more you tense, the worse it is. You know that.”

She does, she does, but it’s so hard to keep herself relaxed when she doesn’t know how fast he’s going to go, if he’s just going to use his fingers, or something more…anything in her ass makes her nervous, always has—she doesn’t _hate_ it but she doesn’t _like_ it and there’s nothing that makes her feel so helpless, so under his control, than being draped over the arm of a chair and fingered open in her most private place. “Daddy, please,” she tries to beg, but he just shushes her again, and slides his finger in to the knuckle. She’s not sure if she should be glad that he’s taking his time, or begging him to hurry up and just _do_ whatever it is he wants to do. The discomfort of his finger sliding inside her and the anticipation of waiting for an even worse to come is unbearable, worse even than the sting of the belt, and before he’s even teased a second finger she’s started to squirm and whine. He’s been so patient thus far, doing no more than soothing her when she can’t help a wiggle or a little displeased moan, that she thinks she’ll get away with it, easy.

Instead she gets a sharp slap on her already-red bottom, and when he pulls back his finger it’s just to press two against her entrance, no sympathy at all for the way she whimpers, " _Daddddy_ ” and clenches down again.

“We can go slower if you want, Princess,” he warns. “I’m not in any hurry. We can stay here all night until you’ve opened up for me.”

“No…Daddy, I don’t want that.”

“I don’t imagine you do. So why don’t you be a good girl for me, relax, and take your punishment even though you don’t like it.”

She kicks her foot once and sighs but doesn’t argue (and even that gesture she pays for, when he takes his hand away and instead just runs his index finger around her asshole a few times, teasing her with nothing while her pussy clenches down on air).

It’s just not worth it to argue with him or to whine or to wiggle about. All she can do is submit. All she can do is go limp and relax and let him fuck her asshole with two fingers for as long as he wants. Squirming earns her additional spanks with his hand, and so does trying to rub her tits against the cushion for some stimulation to her nipples, and so does sighing dramatically or making any noise that sounds like a complaint.

He’s in charge here. He makes the rules. He plays with her exactly as he wants to—with her tits when he wants to, with her pussy when he wants to, with her ass when he wants to—and she doesn’t get a say. She’s his good, obedient, girl.

Finally, finally, he takes his fingers out of her, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

Then tenses up again when she feels something else, cold and hard and foreign, against her entrance. All she can do is sigh long and slow and careful and force herself to accept it inside her, because it’s what her Daddy wants.

“You okay, princess?” he asks, as the plug settles inside her.

“Y-yes, Daddy.” She sniffs, squeezes down experimentally on the plug, and winces. “Just—full.”

“You’re not full,” he corrects. He’s spreading her legs a little wider, rubbing the thumb of his left hand against her pussy entrance like he’s contemplating her, enjoying the soft wetness of her. “You’re just not used to it. Not yet.”

She doesn’t want to hope that he might fuck her, even when she hears the slow rough sound of his zipper being pulled down, even though he’s so close, teasing her now with the head of his cock against her slit. It takes all she has not to beg, just to bite her lip and stay still and _wait_. But she’s good. She’s good for him and when he finally does slide all the way inside her, filling her and stretching her with his long, thick cock, she only takes in a hard, sharp breath and then releases it in a long, almost pained moan. She always feels a certain thrill when he enters her. But this is different. The plug in her ass makes her that much tighter, and she’s so overwhelmed with sensation, with how fucking _full_ she is, pinned against the armchair cushions and helpless to do anything but take whatever he wants to give, that it’s all she can do to keep herself calm. And he knows it. He doesn’t move right away, just lets her get used to him inside her. A part of her is sure this is too much.

She’s had the plug inside her before, not often, but this isn’t completely new. And she’s thought about what it might be like to be fucked at the same time. But she never imagined it would be like this, not like being doubly full but more like triply full, achingly full even though the plug inside her is fairly small.

Her Daddy runs his hand up and down her back as he starts to fuck her, slowly at first, just as if she were a virgin again and hardly accustomed to him. As she relaxes, though, he speeds up. He starts to fuck her roughly. And he even slides a hand between her legs and plays a little with her clit, but so lightly that there’s no chance at all she’ll be able to come.

It feels like she’s been waiting ages to come.

“D-daddy?”

He just grunts, slowing down and thrusting deep and slow into her two, three times. “Yes, princess?”

“Can I….oh, please, Daddy, can I…?”

She hears him laugh a little, breathless and low, as he gives her clit a little pinch, then takes his hand away. “Can you what?”

“Can I come, Sir, please?”

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, and even though his voice is low she recognizes his tone all too well—this is his _don’t be silly, princess_ voice. “Sweetheart, I think you’ve come more than enough today.”

She almost cries when he brings his hand back between her legs, because he knows her and her body so intimately, so perfectly, that he can tease her all the way up to the edge of orgasm without any chance of bringing her over. Every time he feels her getting close, he draws back. He grabs hard at her hip instead, or plays with the plug in her ass, or, if she whines too much with her frustration, slaps her ass where it’s still red and sore from his belt. Once, he slows all the way down, draws back, and pulls her cheeks rudely apart to examine the base of the plug and his own cock deep inside her.

“My beautiful princess,” he breathes.

“Yes, Daddy…all yours.”

Even Bellamy’s impressive stamina eventually runs low, and she feels in the stutter of his hips that he’s close. She clenches down hard around him and he moans, loud and deep and unrestrained—before she can even take a breath, he’s grabbed hard onto her hips and thrust hard and deep inside of her, his whole body shuddering and his cock pulsing as he comes.

When he comes down, still breathing hard and slightly shaky, he pulls her out of her slowly, flips her skirt back down, and helps her up to her feet. She feels weak-limbed and exhausted. It’s all she can do just to let him wrap her up in his arms and to cling to him in return, sniffling a little and hugging him close as he presses a kiss into her hair.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

He kisses the top of her head again and then she gently leans back, just enough to look into his face. Her pussy is still aching and dripping wet, and the plug in her ass is uncomfortable and impossible to ignore. She doesn’t want to _ask,_ exactly, but the look on her face, desperate and curious and sweet, says it all.

Bellamy just smiles, and gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “How about you get yourself cleaned up and ready for bed, okay?”

“Okay… and,” she hesitates, puts on her absolutely most innocent face, and asks, “And the plug, Daddy?” She still doesn’t dare ask about maybe, possibly, getting to come.

“I think you could stand to keep it in a little longer. If you’re good, I’ll take it out before we go to sleep.”

“I’ll be very good!” she promises, and kisses him softly on the cheek. “And maybe if I’m especially good…?”

He pats her ass possessively and gives her a warning look. “I thought you just said you were going to behave for me? You know better than that. Now go on.”

It’s hard not to pout as she draws back from him and starts to walk toward the door, but she knows she has to be on her best behavior now more than ever, so she holds back. She’s almost reached the doorway when Bellamy calls back to her one more time, and she turns, and catches sight of him, disheveled and handsome and smiling at her in that way that always makes her heart melt.

“Clarke, just—one more thing. Next time you see Niylah, give her a kiss from me, will you? And tell her I said hi.”


End file.
